


I Know You Can Slow Dance

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dancer Derek, Derek Uses His Words, Dirty Dancing, M/M, Oral Sex, Stiles-centric, Werewolf Sex, bad dancing jokes with a side of porn, derek can slow dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles quietly let himself into the loft. He knew he wasn’t really supposed to be here. Granted, he felt better knowing that he could just let himself in. Having a key made helps quite a bit. He thought about the potentially painful repercussions that he might experience at Derek’s hands while he sucked down some of the chocolate milkshake he was carrying.</p>
<p>So what if he didn’t get permission from Derek to do it? The dude was constantly climbing in his bedroom window. Stiles figured it was kind of a trade-off.</p>
<p>But what he saw, he did not expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know You Can Slow Dance

Stiles quietly let himself into the loft. He knew he wasn’t really supposed to be here. Granted, he felt better knowing that he could just let himself in. Having a key made helps quite a bit. He thought about the potentially painful repercussions that he might experience at Derek’s hands while he sucked down some of the chocolate milkshake he was carrying.

So what if he didn’t get permission from Derek to do it? The dude was constantly climbing in his bedroom window. Stiles figured it was kind of a trade-off.

But what he saw, he did not expect.

Derek was over by the ridiculously long wooden table, with his back to the door. He had a pair of those ridiculous noise-cancelling headphones over his ears, and was spraying something that smelled potentially like lemon pledge onto a rag.

While dancing.

Dancing. Like, moving his hips in vague, mesmerizing circles. Seriously. Like, all of Stiles ceased everything for approximately 5 seconds, while he watched Derek’s ass swing lazily to the beat thumping in his ears.

Well, almost everything. Blood was rapidly leaving all of his extremities and flushing towards one in particular. It didn’t help that the alpha was wearing his customary grey A-shirt, which was tight and teasing in all the right places, over top of what seemed to be the clingiest pair of sweatpants Stiles had ever seen.

And yet something inside of him did flips when Derek started wiping the table down, all the while, continuing his ridiculous, hip-swaying, should-be-illegal-with-that-ass dancing.

It was one of those situations where Stiles knew that he should look away, that if Derek actually turned around and saw him, he would be totally dead, but he couldn’t He really just couldn’t. He was transfixed. Cemented to the spot, chocolate milkshake condensation almost pouring off the cup onto the floor at his feet.

He shook his head to restart his brain, and quietly, gingerly, set down his backpack and the shake on the coffee table, and leaned himself up against one of the random pillars that supported the superstructure of the loft at seemingly random places, crossing his arms as he did so. He was going to enjoy the show.

And what a show it was. Derek seemed to be getting very little cleaning done, as he seemed to be more inclined to stop dusting or wiping down the surface of the table to give a little shimmy, or a quick slow-motion hip circle, entrancing Stiles more and more. He almost didn’t notice when the werewolf turned around and made for the kitchen, his heart picking up a few notches as he tried to fuse himself to the pillar in terror.

But Derek was in his own little world. Stiles’ relief was palpable. He briefly wondered what would actually happen if Derek caught him. The results were not pleasing. So what did he do? The only logical thing there was to do. He followed the werewolf into the kitchen, because he was probably missing part of the dance.

It was a legitimate concern of Stiles’. Until he tripped on the small, useless, evil little step that led through the doorway into the room, smacking into the floor with a very audible, very un-manly shriek and subsequent thud. It knocked the wind out of him, if only briefly. Seriously, what is even the purpose of that damn thing? To keep three inches of water out of the kitchen should the loft get flooded?

Oh, right. Yeah. Totally happened. Stiles heard the music in Derek’s earphones shut off. I’m dead, he thought. I am sooo dead. The werewolf slowly leaned back, bringing his head and torso into view of the doorway, the threshold of which Stiles was lying on, contemplating his demise.

"Stiles? How did you-" Derek cancelled the rest of the question, he knew there would be no answer that he liked. "What are you doing here?" His eyes were surprised, but he was scowling. Stiles didn’t know that was a thing.

Stiles groaned, and then his mouth, deciding that it was, in fact, better off without the rest of Stiles’ body, decided to act without clearing it with the human’s panicked brain.

"Oh, you know, just finding out that Gloria Estefan was right." Derek’s surprised look faltered briefly to one of terror, then confusion as Stiles sat up. "That eventually the rhythm is gonna get you." He suppressed a laugh, then doubled over, because pain. Derek looked nonplussed, leveling a condescending did you really just say that stare the human. He crossed his arms over his chest, and watched the human slowly recover from the fall.

"I hope it hurts."

"Oh, real nice from the guy who was just dirty-dancing all over his apartment."

"Wha- How did you- HOW LONG WERE YOU WATCHING ME?" Stiles thought Derek’s angry response should have been the most terrifying thing on the planet, but he couldn’t suppress the smile. Because as angry as Derek was, he was also just as terrified at the prospect that Stiles had seen him dancing.

Stiles stood gingerly, rubbing his abdomen before holding up reassuring hands to the werewolf. “Dude, it’s okay. Seriously.”

Derek seemed to calm down slightly. Very slightly. Maybe. Stiles couldn’t really tell, so he made it worse. “I mean, you can dance if you want to…” Derek didn’t respond. “…You can leave your friends behind…” Derek clenched his fists, and Stiles prepared to run. “Because if you don’t dan— Eep!” Derek threw the can of pledge at his face. Stiles bolted for the front door. Because that is what you do when your life is about to be abruptly, unceremoniously ended. You haul ass.

Except when a werewolf chases you. Then you just accept the inevitability and pray that having your throat ripped out doesn’t hurt as much as it looks like it does. Stiles had a hand on the door handle when he was ripped backwards by the shoulder and slammed against the steel door, with Derek glaring at him mere inches from his face.

Any thoughts Stiles had kind of went out the window as he grimaced, preparing for the teeth that were elongating underneath the alpha’s lips.

Derek’s lips. Stiles briefly opened an eye to catch a glimpse, both terrified and curious at the same time. They were in a half-snarl, but still full, flushed, and so close that Stiles could feel the hot air that escaped them as the werewolf exhaled.

And Stiles’ partial was back. Derek inhaled a little more deeply, and his scowl shifted. It didn’t leave, but it changed.

"Stiles?" Derek asked, eyes drifting south to the human’s lips, and even farther south, to the part of him that was slowly engorging itself with blood.

The human was still feeling roughly terrified of the werewolf that had him pinned to the door. Well, among other things. “What?”

"Are you- Do you have an-?"

"Wha- No. No. Nope." Stiles lied. His body was ever a traitor to his thoughts. Derek moved impossibly closer, and inhaled deeply of the space where Stiles’ neck met his shoulder. Stiles noticed how the werewolf’s eyes closed for the briefest of seconds longer than they would have in any other blink.

"Why, then, do you smell aroused?” The question came out as a growl, emotion behind it indecipherable.

"Wha- You can smell that? And duh, I’m 18 years old. I would think that I smell like that pretty much all the time." Stiles was slightly indignant, but also slightly intrigued. Okay, more than slightly. His body was already proving that. “Besides, you were dancing. It was kind of… awesome.” Stiles mentally made a note to kill himself later, because you just don’t tell the guy you have been crushing hard on for the last two years that you thought his amateur booty-dancing was awesome. Stiles loathed himself. Especially as he felt his ears grow red with the heat of embarrassment.

The smallest, most evil-looking smile began to curl knowingly at the edges of Derek’s mouth. He grabbed the front of Stiles’ shirt in a ball with his fist, and pulled the protesting human across the apartment. He found a chair and swung it round, plopping Stiles down into it unceremoniously. He moved to get up, but Derek held him in place, a solid hand on his shoulder, and climbed onto his lap. Stiles shut up immediately, because reasons.

Derek pulled the earphones back onto his head, and clicked the player on again. He started moving his hips in little, slow circles on Stiles’ pelvis, closing his eyes in the process. He began to sway slightly, and Stiles lost all sense of time. His mind ceased to work as Derek slowly ground him into dust. His movements slowly picked up speed, with the beat of the music in his ears. Stiles’ heartbeat jumped as it happened, and he placed tentative hands on Derek’s sides, fingers sliding past the hem of his shirt, feeling the warmth of the skin beneath it.

Derek opened his eyes and locked them onto Stiles’. Stiles knew he was screwed. Even more so when Derek slid backwards off of his lap, out of his reach, and moved around the back of the chair, bringing his mouth within millimeters of the human’s neck, prickling the skin with his hot breath, making half of Stiles’ body flush with goosebumps. Stiles leaned into it, exposing a length of throat for the werewolf to consume, closing his eyes. But instead he felt the soft impact of fabric on his lap. Stiles looked at it, and up, as the werewolf swung himself back in front of Stiles, minus one shirt. Stiles was, at this point, leaking pre-come through his jeans, and Derek backed up between his legs, hands pulling the waistband of his sweats down ever so slightly, to reveal the curve of muscle from his ass where it met his lower back. Stiles’ own hands acted entirely of their own accord as they reached for the exposed skin, curling his fingers around it, electricity sparking between the gap just before they made contact as Derek swayed.

Stiles moaned absentmindedly. He swore he could see the goddamn self-satisfied smile on Derek’s face through the back of his head. Derek took the sound as tacit permission to turn back around and climb onto Stiles’ lap once more, pulling his face down towards the human’s, locking their lips together roughly. His tongue toyed with the tip of Stiles’, and explored the inside of his lips. A muffled groan made its way from Stiles’ throat into Derek’s mouth, and he didn’t notice when Derek’s impromptu strip show had ended, and the practiced, smooth motion of the werewolf’s hips became rough, deep grinds against his hips. Stiles hands slid up the werewolf’s back as Derek began to move his lips down Stiles jaw, to his neck. The human’s hands became claws, and he dug in his nails as he felt the excruciatingly amazing sensations ricochet throughout his body from the point of contact with Derek’s lips. Derek growled into Stiles’ skin, pulling back slightly. He shifted himself off of the human’s lap, and settled on his knees in front of it. Well that escalated quickly, Stiles thought. His hadn’t left the werewolf’s skin since their lips had parted, they were now sliding up over the ridges of his shoulders and into his hair. Derek had Stiles fly undone in a matter of seconds, helped along by the human’s barely restrained cock. He wrapped fingers around the jeans and boxers, and yanked them down, freeing his prize.

His mouth was on it an instant after, and Stiles was gone. His words were slurs of curses and moans, and pleas to a deity, who may or may not be Derek. His mind was fraying gloriously, synapses misfiring from nerves throughout his entire body as Derek moved his lips up and down on his cock, pausing briefly to draw his tongue in a line up the shaft, running around the base of the head a few times as Stiles squirmed in pleasure. When he started sucking again, Stiles knuckles tightened in Derek’s hair, not demanding, or pulling, just holding him in place as his back arched, and utter incoherent filth streamed from his lips.

Stiles could feel everything tighten as the white-hot weight of his orgasm began to form in the base of his pelvis. Derek must have felt it too, because he sped up, sliding his lips up and down faster and faster until Stiles was right on the edge.

Then he pulled back.

Stiles could feel it. Right there. He lifted his head and looked at the shit-eating grin on the werewolf’s face. And he knew. Or at least, he thought he did. Derek was getting back at him for sneaking in and catching him en fuego.

Breathlessly, Derek brought his lips back up to Stiles’, and if there was a hotter, wetter kiss anywhere in existence, this one put it to shame. His hand clutched at the back of Stiles’ neck, while his other slowly began to stroke his cock. When he pulled back, and stood up, Stiles felt his swollen lips missing the contact.

Any thought they had of abandonment disappeared as derek untied his sweatpants and pulled them down to his ankles, stepping out of them deftly. He looked at Stiles expectantly.

Stiles stared at Derek’s body like it was christmas. All his presents were just unwrapped, and it was time to play.

“Well?”

Stiles didn’t need to be told twice. In exactly one-half of a second, he was out of the chair and was on his knees in front of Derek’s upturned cock. He placed open lips on the sensitive skin that joined the package to his thigh, and felt through them as Derek twitched.

He grasped the werewolf’s cock in his hand, and lightly brushed the tip of his tongue against it, at the point where the head joined the shaft. It reflexively twitched as Derek moaned at the contact. Slowly, cruelly, Stiles mouthed Derek’s cock.

By the time he slid his mouth down past the head, The only sound that Derek was apparently capable of making was a jagged growl. Stiles smiled inside his own mind, because two could play the turn-you-on-and-leave-you-hanging-game. So he brought Derek almost to the point of no return, relishing the way Derek’s body tensed, and his balls lifted against the base of his cock.

Then he pulled back, and stood up, just in time to catch the angry scowl on Derek’s face. He knew he deserved it the sweet torture that he had made Stiles endure, but Stiles wasn’t that cruel. He grasped the werewolf’s hand, and interlaced their fingers as he led him to the bed, turning Derek around to face him, he placed the tips of his fingers against his chest and let him fall into the sheets, quickly clambering onto him. Instantly, almost without thought, he began to grind rhythmically against the werewolf.

Derek slid his hands onto Stiles’ hips, thumbs playing at the indentations where muscle gave way to bone underneath the skin. Stiles bent down, and began mouthing quickly-fading bruises into Derek’s neck, nipping at the skin ever so slightly as he did. He could hear the breath catch in Derek’s throat each time his teeth made contact. He made his way slowly down the thick muscles of Derek’s chest towards the dip in the center, tonguing the skin at times, and letting his lips graze over it at others. He ran his tongue down over the ridges of Derek’s abdomen, pausing briefly to do a lap around his belly-button, before placing open kisses on the sensitive, almost ticklish flesh beneath Derek’s hip bones.

He had a destination in mind, and unlike Derek, he intended to finish what he started. Abandoning all concepts of teasing, he wrapped his lips around Derek’s cock anew, drawing a full-body shudder from him as he began sucking.

Stiles reached a hand down to his own cock and began to stroke it in time with his rhythm, surprising himself at how close he actually was. Derek surprised him more as his whole body tensed five minutes in, and he arched his back off of the bed, throwing back his head, and howled as he exploded into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles was mere seconds behind him, the familiar feeling pulsing from the lowest point in his groin, radiating white hot waves throughout his entire body as he groaned and felt himself cross the point of no return, shuddering as he came.

Derek had a weird, half-turned smile on his face, which was flushed with color, his eyes locked onto Stiles’. Before, it would have made the human do everything he could to make himself invisible, because he couldn’t look at Derek without turning red sometimes. But all the boundaries had been crossed.

As the aftershocks of his orgasm coursed through his body, Stiles’ thoughts returned to him. Derek gave a small chuckle, admiring the mess the human had made all over him. Stiles sank back onto his knees, head still upturned, breathing in the process of returning to a normal cadence.

Derek sat up, and placed soft kisses on his collarbone, stubble rubbing roughly against the smooth skin. Stiles laughed raggedly under the touch.

“You know, I knew something like this was going to happen.” He said to the air above them.

“Oh, really, how?” Derek asked in between placing his lips on Stiles’ throat, bobbing as he swallowed in between exhales.

“Because your hips weren’t lying.”

“…Is that all you got?” Derek pulled back from Stiles’ neck, and the skin there missing the warmth almost immediately.

“Yeah, I couldn’t think of a way to finish that one.” Stiles’ mind was still going astray. His usual wittiness was still being rendered ineffective by Derek’s presence. “But you know we are going to have to talk about the biggest question that all this,” Stiles gestured at them both, the chair, and their scattered clothes, “brought up today.”

Derek leaned back against the bed, looking at Stiles with a mildly fearful expression. “What’s that?” His eyebrows did that thing that Stiles secretly loved but couldn’t really describe.

“When are you going to take me dancing?” Stiles’ grin was ear-to-ear. “Because with moves like that, I know you must have be able to slow-dance.” Stiles mimed what appeared to be some kind of ballroom dancing and hummed an off-key waltz. Derek scoffed and playfully pushed him over into the bed as he laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Yes it was porn-y and cheesy, but that was the point.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it. Leave kudos or comments for me to read!
> 
> And check out my tumbr @ watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com for more Sterek stuff!
> 
> Thanks again!
> 
> -SK


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